


you'll never be whole until you lose control

by ellisaco



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellisaco/pseuds/ellisaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>He hasn't seen Greg James since</em> year ten<em>. Back when Louis had been young: still figuring himself out and not half as subtle as he'd like to think. Back before he'd come out to even</em> Harry.</p>
<p>or: Greg and Louis went to high school together and run into each other at a party a few years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll never be whole until you lose control

**Author's Note:**

> [be the fic you want to see in the world](http://amioriginiall.tumblr.com/post/66832228973)

Louis is alone in a stranger's kitchen and it is entirely Harry's fault. ("Nick isn't a stranger, Lou, you've met him like thirty-seven times." "Sorry, love, that name doesn't ring a bell.")

He _always_ does this; drags Louis away from a night in front of the telly and then abandons him minutes after they arrive. Far be it from Harry Styles to actually say _no_ when someone wants to pull him away for a chat. It's all just part of their routine, though. Tomorrow Louis will guilt Harry into doing the laundry he definitely wouldn't have spent his night doing and balance will be restored.

Honestly, though, who the fuck has a party on a _Tuesday_ night? Louis won't ask. It's the perfect opener for Nick to say something twatish like "Tuesday is the new Friday".

Louis roots around in the fridge, mostly just for something to do with his hands. He's pretty much given up hope of finding anything other than the overpriced reds that line the counter. He makes a mental note to buy a six-pack with Harry's credit card the next time he can finagle his wallet away from him. So tomorrow.

Louis glances around the living room, searching for Harry. He doesn't care if it's rude to interrupt, he's bored and he wants Harry to pay attention to him. He spots him by Nick's vinyl collection chatting with Cara, playing with his hair and smiling too wide. He's on the pull, no doubt about it, and he'll pout for _days_ if Louis breaks his stride. There's only one viable course of action here.

Louis starts walking over.

Before he can make it as far as the other side of the kitchen, he sees a familiar face headed in his direction and he stops in his tracks. That's—he hasn't seen Greg James since _year ten_. Back when Louis had been young: still figuring himself out and not half as subtle as he'd like to think. Back before he'd come out to even _Harry_.

Irrationally, childishly, his first instinct is to duck down behind the island, hidden from view. God, even all these years later Greg still makes him stupid. It's not like Louis needs to _hide_ , he _wants_ to see Greg and he feels confident in saying Greg would like to see him too. He just can't shake that clinging embarrassment, the same anyone gets when they think back on way they acted around the first person they properly fancied.

It's not like Greg was ever anything but lovely about it, though; he never led Louis on but never treated him like a stupid kid with a crush either. They never talked about it out loud, but the fact that Greg knew and didn't treat him any differently for it—meant a lot to Louis. Made him feel like if it weren't for the age gap and the fact that Greg was off to uni in a few months, they could have had something, and that that would have been okay. Like it was something that Louis was allowed to want.

"Louis? Louis Tomlinson?"

Louis bites down on a stupid grin and wills himself not to blush, because Greg looks really fit and that just would not be on.

"Hi, Greg," says Louis, not entirely succeeding on tamping down the pleased smile. "Fancy seeing you here, mate."

Before Louis can mentally berate himself for honest to god saying _fancy seeing you here_ , Greg is pulling him into a hug, and then Louis isn't thinking about much besides how good Greg smells and how long he'd wanted even this bit of closeness. He's pulling away altogether too soon for Louis's liking.

"So, you know Nick? Suppose Grimmy's friends with everyone, innit?"

"Yeah," Louis says, even though they're not really.  He doesn't actually dislike Nick—under extreme duress he might even admit to finding him funny—it's just more entertaining to let both Nick and Harry believe that he does. "He's my best mate's best mate. How about you?"

Greg grins, a bit proud. "He's my boss."

"Shut up! You do not work at Radio One!" He punches Greg's shoulder for added effect and Greg sways back a bit, laughing, obviously pleased by Louis's reaction.

"Well, I mean, it's only an internship right now, but if it goes well, who knows."

Back when they'd worked on the morning announcements together, there was little Greg wanted more than to be on the actual radio one day. He'd always had a natural talent for it, a way about him that made people want to stop and listen. And Louis really doesn't think that's his bias speaking.

"That was like the dream, shit, that's so great, Greg." _I'm proud of you._ "Reckon any day now I'll be turning on my radio to listen to your very own _Radio fucking One_ show."

"You'll have to see to it that I never forget my humble beginnings, then." he says, and it's both a reference to their past and and an implication of a future.

There's a witty rejoinder he's meant to be making here, he's sure of it, but somehow all he can think to do is smile and try not to let it show on his face just how much he wants to kiss Greg.

He's maybe concentrating a bit too hard, because he has to ask Greg to repeat himself.

He's not the least bothered, saying again, "How about you? What brings you to London?"

Louis plays with his fringe and fiddles with the sleeve of his jumper. "Oh, well, uni mostly and my mate Harry. Couldn't very well leave him to his own devices in the big city."

"What are you studying, then?"

"Big, fancy law student now, me." Louis laughs, self-deprecating, a habit he's gotten into while telling people what he's studying that he hasn't yet managed to break. "Bet you never saw that one coming, eh?"

"I think anyone that didn't see it coming should have. That's amazing, Lou, you'll be brilliant."

The warmth spreads down to Louis's toes, both from the nickname and the easy way that Greg genuinely believes in him  He feels fifteen again: blushing and hanging on Greg's every word. So, so obvious.

He's not that kid anymore, though. He's grown up and grown into himself in the five years since he and Greg last saw each other.

Fifteen year old Louis never would have had the daring to step closer into Greg, bring a hand up to brush along his arm. Too scared of someone seeing, of being laughed off.

Greg smiles, too soft and genuine for the setting, a direct contrast to the bassline Louis can feel thrumming through him like a second heartbeat.

"It's really good to see you, Louis." he says, stepping closer still.

Louis's knee-jerk reaction is to deflect by saying something inane and sarcastic like _it's always good to see me_ , but. But. "Yeah, it's really good to see you too. School wasn't the same without you."

Louis laughs a bit, though it's probably too late to play off just how much he means that last part. Greg just smiles again, like he sees it for the joke that it's not.

They're on the knife's edge of something, and Louis wants to let go, just let whatever will happen _happen_ , but it's also a moment that he desperately doesn't want to share.

"Drink?" he practically squeaks, effectively breaking the moment, snapping them both back to the reality of the noise and bustle around them.

If Greg's disappointed by Louis's apparent brush off, he doesn't let it show on his face. He just rustles around in Nick's cupboards until he comes up with a bottle of vodka. Clearly that's a sign that Louis needs to elevate his snooping game.

While Greg mixes their drinks, Louis catches Harry's eye across the flat. He's gesticulating wildly, obviously trying to get Louis's attention. Now that Louis is his captive audience, he points aggressively between Louis and Greg, then draws a question mark in the air. Always the picture of subtlety, Harry.

Louis turns so his back is facing Harry, pointedly ignoring him. It takes not thirty seconds for his mobile to buzz. Louis briefly contemplates further ignoring him, but it would really only encourage him.

_is that GREG JAMES that ur undressing with your EYES???? blink once for yes_

**stfu or i'll tell cara that u cried over the football in cast away**

_WILSON WAS ALL HE HAD LEFT_

Louis pockets his mobile without replying when Greg hands him his drink. Their hands brush as he passes it to Louis, and the air feels charged again, still.

Louis sips his drink slowly, letting it settle him a bit. Greg picks up the thread of the conversation easily, talking about uni and his internship and asking Louis about his classes, what area of law he wants to focus on.

"Walk me home?" Louis says in a rush, quickly before he can lose his nerve. He possibly just interrupted Greg mid-sentence, but he can't be sure over the rushing in his own ears.

"Yeah," Greg says after a moment, like he's had to catch his breath, like he's just as affected as Louis is, "yeah, okay. Let me just grab my coat."

  
  
  


The walk seems to be a bit further than Greg had anticipated. Louis can tell he's trying not to let on that he's a bit winded, and it's equal parts endearing and hilarious. Mostly just endearing, though. It's making Louis want to do all kinds of ridiculous things—namely, give a piggyback ride to a man almost a foot taller than him.

"Mate, I'm sorry, but did you think I lived a stone's throw away from Primrose Hill? Broke uni student, remember?"

Greg tries to huff, but doesn't seem to have the air for it. "I'm fine, I'm fine—can't all be bloody fit football stars, can we?"

He could be talking about Louis's brief stint on the secondary school team,  but they hadn't yet known each other at the time. Louis did, however, post a few pictures of the charity match to Facebook.

"You been keeping tabs on me, Gregory?" he teases. His stomach gives a nervous, excited swoop at the idea.

Beautifully, tellingly, Greg's cheeks colour pink. He laughs, caught out. "Fine invention, Facebook."

Louis grins, his cheeks hurting from it, and takes Greg's hand in his under the very cunning guise of helping him along.

He doesn't let go.

There's just something so easy about being around Greg, slipping back into old routines and familiar banter without a hitch. Louis won't be content to let the feeling slip away this time.

The walk is long, one Louis himself usually tries to avoid by goading Harry into paying for a cab—but by the time they reach his door, Louis almost wants to have another go around the block. Just as an excuse to extend the night that slightest bit further. Greg seems to be on the same page, shuffling his feet a bit awkwardly like the last thing he wants to say is goodbye.

Louis leans back against the door, no real excuse for not having gone in yet.

"Thanks, y'know, for braving the hard London streets with me." Louis says for lack of anything better to say.

He wants to pull Greg in by his belt loops, close enough to feel the heat of his body, and he's not sure he's allowed. They've been dancing around it all night, but there's still those residual nerves keeping Louis from just going for it, going for what he wants.

"It was really good catching up, Lou."

Louis nods. _Kiss me kiss me kiss me._

Greg steps in closer; if he put his hands on either side of the door, he could box Louis right in. "I missed you, you know?" he says, quiet, even though the hallway is deserted, like the words are meant only for Louis.

"Yeah?" Louis says, barely resists tacking on a dazed _really?_ Greg _missed_ him, thought about Louis after he graduated. And now he's stood right in front of Louis, tall and fit and every bit as lovely as Louis had remembered.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Louis surges up onto his tiptoes, hooks a hand around Greg's neck, and does what he's wanted to do since before he even realised what it meant. There's a brief, terrifying second where Louis thinks that he actually _did_ misread the situation, and then Greg is kissing him, pushing him back against the door with his hands on Louis's hips. It's quite gratifying for Louis to realise that his fears were unfounded, that Greg is just as into this as he is.

Greg's hands thread through Louis's hair, too long from months of not trimming it, and tilts Louis's head for a better angle. Louis lets out a soft noise that gets lost in Greg's mouth, pushes up that little bit higher on his toes. It's starting to hurt a bit, if he's honest, the way he can't fully relax into it, fighting for balance. But it's not exactly something that he minds—the reminder of just how much smaller he is than Greg. How, if he wanted to, Greg could easily lift him straight off his feet.

Greg shifts and knocks their legs together, and Louis's balance is shot. He falls back on flat feet, their mouths disconnecting with a wet sound. Greg's expression is twisted in confusion for a moment, like he's not quite sure why the kissing's stopped, and it's enough to have Louis bursting out in laughter moments after being thoroughly snogged.

Greg looks confused for a few seconds longer before he's joining Louis, laughing along with him. Louis can honestly say this is not how he expected his night to turn out—stood in the hallway of his flat complex at half two in the morning, laughing into the soft cotton of Greg James' sweater, feeling lighter than he has in ages.

He has to go back in for another kiss, brief but sweet, and he can't help smiling into it. He should probably duck inside before he goes into full on 'giddy teenager kissing their crush for the first time' mode. Seeing as that's essentially exactly what he is. He makes sure to get Greg's number before he does, though—double, maybe triple checks that he's typed it in right. Because he won't let Greg slip away this time.


End file.
